


In Payment

by NoelBlue



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Angst, Headcanon, M/M, Male Slash, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-10
Updated: 2011-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoelBlue/pseuds/NoelBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke and Anders' relationship has gotten complicated after three wonderful years of living together, and Hawke isn't quite sure why. He left his love for a month to deal with bandits on the Wounded Coast, and returns to finish the fight that lingers from before his trip. They have it out, and Anders is regained; they are lovers once more. The cost, however, is unknown.</p><p>A bargain has been made, love for blood. How much will Hawke ignore to have peace and Anders in his life?</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Payment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pluto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pluto/gifts).



> I found the blank spaces of how Justice convinces Anders to do what he does at the end of Act III a bit frustrating, so this is my headcanon filler, based on my friend's playthrough as a Sarcastic Rogue named Tiberius Hawke.

Hawke strode into the foyer and shook the dust out of his hair, making a mental note to apologize to Orana later for the mess. As usual, his house was spotless. This made him feel briefly like he didn't belong there, and instead should still be in an inadequate tent with poor insulation and poorer wind protection on the Wounded Coast.

"What a month." he dropped his equipment, his packs, his weapon, his armor, his boots, and finally his shirt in the foyer. The thought of wearing any of it one minute longer disgusted him.

Striding into the main hall, he nodded at Orana, who was rushing from the kitchen. "I'm so sorry, messere, I didn't know you had come home. I'll clean up your things, I'll -"

"Stop." Per usual she missed the sarcastic edge to his tone, and stopped so suddenly she was as still as a statue, her eyes wide. "Understand this, Orana - you are not allowed to touch my things in the hallway; I will take care of them tomorrow. I do not pay you enough to put up with what an utter pig I am." This was untrue; she was paid very well, but her natural subservience made him uncomfortable. He did his best to remind her she was a servant and a free citizen, no slave. He softened when he saw her stricken expression. "I am serious, girl - let me deal with it. They'll be enough to clean up once it's moved."

She nodded, and smiled. "Yes Serah. I 'll leave it be. Welcome home - we thought it would be another week more. Can I draw you a bath?"

"Oh, maker's balls, please do. Nothing would be lovelier. Is Anders home?"

She nodded, and chewed her lip. "Is something wrong?" his tone was light, but his heart constricted - he was worried what he would find when he returned. Before he was called to deal with raiders on the coast they had gotten into a horrible fight, one that he was unable to resolve before leaving. Both the cause of the fight and the reason for its lack of resolution were the same: Anders was disappearing more frequently, leaving the house at all hours and returning at even more ridiculous times, sometimes days later. Oftentimes he would say he was 'at the clinic'. Sometimes he wouldn't answer at all, simply giving Hawke a wane smile and a kiss before falling on the bed and into a restless, murmuring sleep. And when Hawke reached for him... by Andraste, he had no bloody idea how to handle Anders' reaction.

Thus Hawke had almost been grateful when he returned from a meeting with Aveline wherein he agreed to rush directly to the coast and found Anders gone - leaving a note was far easier then being confronted with that unsettling distance his love was constructing between them. Physical distance was significantly less thorny.

"Not wrong, Messere, just - he's been very quiet since you left, barely says a word. He used to be so very talkitive." She saw Hawke's face, and put her tiny hands up to her mouth. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you, Serah Hawke. Its nothing, I'm sure. He's just tired. Please don't think on it."

Somewhere behind that childlike shield was a natural empathy, not an emotion he was prepared to deal with at that moment. Hawke summoned his sharp smile for her benefit. "I see. Thank you for telling me."

She nodded, and scurried off back to the kitchen. She would heat the water and call him when his bath was ready. Without knowing why Hawke willed himself into stealth, and moved silently up the stairs. The door to his bedroom was open, and the warm flickering of the bedside lamps beckoned.

On the bed was Anders, sitting with his legs crossed and wearing his mage's robes - without shoes. The dichotomy made Hawke smile. His hair was loose around his face, which needed a shave, per usual. And was it possible that the mage was even skinnier than he was a month ago? Hawke began to plot how best to tie up a skittish mage with a fade spirit in residence and convince him to eat a sandwich, or 10. Perhaps a well placed application of 'stun'?

As he watched from the shadows just beyond the door Anders began to tear up many of his pages, flinging them to the floor. Others he placed on a pile to his right. Hawke figured those were the ones he was going to keep, until Anders stood up, his bare feet gently smacking on the wood floor. He then flung the papers into the roaring fire then stood there, watching them burn.

Hawke found the expression on his face deeply unsettling, and finally cleared his throat. Anders started and turned. The light from the fire turned his hazel eyes a fiery orange.

Hawke preferred that to a pupil-less blue.

"Hello," he said, and made himself smile as he stepped just into the light. "Are we out of wood, then? I could go chop us some more." Anders looked at him with an expression so naked and yet unreadable Hawke turned to the fire. "Is that your manifesto? The one you've been working on for 6 years?"

Anders ignored the question. "Tiberius. You're back from the coast?" His voice was raw, rawer even than his expression.

Hawke laughed. "Not at all. I'm still there and buried balls deep in sand and bandit gore, listening to Aveline call me a sodding backstabbing pussy while Merrill forgets to heal me. This is just your bad dream of a dirty rogue standing shirtless before you, come to bedevil your sleep." he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway. Anders opened his mouth to speak, and Hawke cut him off. "No no, keep burning your papers, don't let me stop you. Ignore me; I'll go away. I always do."

The bitter was supposed to be hidden. The startled, hurt expression on Anders' face showed that he had failed at that.

"Your bath is ready, Sereh Hawke," Orana's voice drifted up from downstairs.

"Thank you," he called, and took a step back into the hallway. Anders was still staring at him, and Hawke was lost for words. He tried to smile before all but fleeing down the stairs.

After first rinsing himself off with a bucket full of water Hawke lowered himself into the steaming tub with a sigh. It felt exquisite, but there was no pleasure. He had not handled that well, hadn't even allowed Anders to speak. His reasoning was simple - he wasn't sure he wanted to hear what the mage had to say. The looming sense that he was going to lose his lover was growing like a cancer, ever-spreading.

Anders kept reminding Hawke that he was going to break his heart. It used to be a joke, or at least had felt like it, but now it had the dusty taste of reality, the tinge of the inevitable. What he had really wanted to say to Anders was "I can't believe you're still here!" But that would have kicked off a conversation Hawke was ill-prepared to have. The man he loved was going to leave him, just like had warned him he was going to.

Really, how much of Anders was really left?

The sound of bare feet on stone approached from the entrance, and Hawke closed his eyes.

"I always forget how handsome you are," Anders said, his old wry humor in his voice. "I need warning before you show up in the bedroom half-naked, Hawke, it's hardly fair."

Hawke smiled. "What would you do with warning, hm?"

"I don't know," Anders simply sounded sad now. "Your appearance always throws me off, and I'm never truly prepared. Believe me, I've tried to steel myself, always to no avail."

Silence echoed.

"Maybe," Hawke said softly, "maybe it'd be better if you didn't have to deal with my appearance at all. Less stressful, perhaps."

"Hawke."

"I mean, really, I'd be tired of me by now. My mouth is awfully smart, and lesser men than you have desired to escape it. Many of them try to kill me simply to shut me up." He paused. "Anders... It's been a good three years, haven't it?"

"Hawke..."

"Anders." His voice was finally serious. He felt his toes start to wrinkle, and he decided he didn't care. Perhaps he could dissolve and float away. "You don't have to say anything. You've moved beyond us, beyond me. I know Justice wants us apart, and I know 'us', and this, aren't as important as the freedom of mages for the both of you. I've always known that, however much I tried not to. But you've made it awfully clear to me lately. I am tired of imposing on you, and I'm sure you're tired of being imposed upon." He held out his hand, eyes still closed. "It's okay, my love. You don't have to explain again."

"Maker take you, Hawke. Maker damn you! " The vehemence in Anders' voice startled Hawkes' eyes open. He turned his head to see Anders snarling at him, eyes red. "Will you ever let me talk?"

Hawke furrowed his brows. "Haven't we talked enough? It feels like all we've done is talk, and nothing else. You don't want me any more, Anders . I understand that, I understood that perfectly when I left and you were gone."

"I didn't know you were leaving! You didn't tell me, except for that damned note afterwards."

"Two days," Hawke found his lips lifted up in a snarl, and he half lifted himself out of the basin and splashed water all over the floor, meeting the brown eyes of his lover, "Two days, Anders. That's how long I waited here for you, waited for you to come home so I could say goodbye, so we could talk about everything that was said. We live together, and two days should have been enough." He balled his hands into fists, then opened them again. "But what difference would it have made? You barely let me touch you anymore, moving away from me like my fingers are full of poison. What am I supposed to think when you do that? I get it. You and Justice, you're planning something, and that something has nothing to do with me. Just... I'm tired of you reminding me of that fact. It hurts enough as it is." he leaned forward, and ran his wet hands over his hair, hoping to brush away the burning pain behind his eyes. "You can have your own room. We will be roommates, and you will be free of the pressure of me caring. We'll both be free."

"Is that what you want, Tiberius?" Anders' voice had lost inflection. "To be free of us?"

"No, Anders." He bit the name off. "I want you. I want us. But if we are no longer lovers... if you do not want me, or want me caring where you disappear to, then I can no longer share your bed. It is dreadfully simple, really. Ow!" He opened his eyes and stared at Anders in shock, rubbing the side of his head. "Did you just throw something at me?"

"A very small force spell," Anders said with anger, and dropped down on his knees next to the tub, then poked a finger on the very spot he'd just targeted, causing Hawke to curse and swipe at his hand.

"What are you -"

"You are an arrogant, sarcastic, thoughtless, self-involved, self-impressed,utterly maddening bastard, you know that?"

Hawke's eyes narrowed in rage. "Of course I know that, you scraggly, angst-eaten abomination! And you've known that too - hell, you used to say it turned you on! You -" He took a deep breath, and pulled himself together. This wasn't what he wanted. "You know what, forget anything I said. Forget all of it. I'm going to bed, and we can talk about this after I've gotten a good night's -" He started to stand, water dripping everywhere and him not caring one bit.

"Please, Hawke. Listen. There is something I must do to please Justice, and it is tearing me apart." Hawke stopped. Ander's voice was quiet, with a note that broke Hawke's heart. He lowered himself down again.

"I used to balk, when I fight him, he tears me asunder. His voice echoes in my head, blue flames tear through my dreams and devour my soul." Anders reached out and took one of Hawke's hands, wrapping his fingers around the wet palm, and Hawke did not pull it back. He looked at how slender the mage's hands were compared to his, how gentle and white. His anger was leaving him, too quickly, as it always was when he was mad at Anders. A month's worth of tension and resentment faded away. "Justice used to let me have you, because he knew it kept me happy, it kept me calm, it kept me pliable and accepting. He has slept when we were together, and I could pretend he wasn't there. But then... he started using you as a weapon."

"As a weapon?" Hawke was confused.

Anders furrowed his brow and shook his head. "No, that's not right, not using you - using my desire for you. When I felt it, when it appeared, when I wanted you, he threw it at me, tried to turn it into nightmares and darkness. When you touched me, I saw mages burned in fire, templars raping tranquils as they looked on with empty eyes, human mouths sewn shut like they do in the Quanari as the victims tried to scream... All of it, in an endless loop, twisting my desire. I left to escape these visions, to escape wanting you and then seeing nothing but these ceaseless horrors."

"Yes... Raping templers doesn't sound like the best aphrodisiac," Hawke said wryly. Andraste's tits he hated Justice. He brought Anders' hand to his lips and kissed it, aching over the things the man was forced to endure.

Anders made a noise between a laugh and a sigh, and freed his fingers to cup Hawkes' cheek, who leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. "No, not at all. He was driving me away from you, and I couldn't stand it."

"You say 'couldn't, and 'was', as if this is all in the past tense." He liked being touched by Anders, loved his talented fingers. He missed those talented fingers so.

"It is over. I agreed to his demands." The hand withdrew, and Hawke opened then narrowed his eyes, turning to see those lovely hands now in Anders' lap, Anders' head down.

"And those demands are....?"

"Nothing." He looked up, and he was smiling and wearing the strangest expression Hawke had ever seen, a weird amalgamation of joy and despair. "It doesn't matter, truly it doesn't. What's important is he's left me be." he reached forward to run his fingers from Hawke's temple to the side of his head through his short hair, knitting them to the back. "I am allowed to have you again. That is the key."

"Anders..." Hawke couldn't continue as soft lips landed on his, lips hungry and needy and with a lust he couldn't ignore matched by the tight embrace now around his shoulders, his surprise brief as a tongue invaded his mouth and he fought back with a hungry growl. Fuck he loved when Anders kissed him like that, buried him in his need. Hawke's arms came out of the water and he pulled himself up and Anders forward at the same time, drenching the mage's fuzzy pouldron's and his hair and his neck as they almost clawed at each other, months of pent up need obliterating everything.

"Take this off," he ordered into Anders' mouth, his usually nimble fingers not moving fast enough in undoing the needlessly complicated robe clasps. "Easy access, my balls."

The mage laughed and pulled back to open and slouch off his clothes; it had barely hit the floor when Hawke pulled Anders into the tub with him; Anders barely managed to get his legs over the side in time. Water splashed over the floor in a great swoosh that they completely ignored. Hawke's fingers wrapped around Anders' ass and pulled their cocks together while biting at Anders' breastbone.

"You need to eat more," he moved his hands up to rub his lover's too-prominent ribs, "or you're just going to be a scruffy husk of a mage. What use are you to Justice then, hm?"

"Romantic as always, Tiberius," Anders' laugh was quiet, "as long as there is enough of me for you, I don't care. Justice has enough."

"Yes, yes he does, the blue bastard. And that's it, we're done - no more Justice talk." Hawke lifted up his torso wrapped his legs around Anders, pulling his full body on top of him. "If you're mine I'm taking you."

"By the Maker, please do," Anders breathed, and kissed Hawke so hard the rogue wondered if he would ever be allowed to breathe. Not that he necessarily wanted to.

Who knows how long later they lay in the almost empty tub, wet and pruned and sated and in dire need of another bath. Hawke's eyes were closed, and he could feel the comforting scratch of Anders' face underneath his chin and on his neck. His thoughts were not still. There was darkness at the edge of his vision, a sense that whatever Anders wasn't telling him was serious, and that he would not like it. But that was to worry about later, he told himself, and shut that voice away in a corner of his mind; Hawke was a man who took on challenges as they arrived. He believed, truly, that Anders' true self would win out over Justice's mad need for vengeance. If that's what he had to accept to keep his lover, so be it.

"I missed you, love," Anders said. The infinite sadness there broke Hawke's heart, and he didn't know what to say, no biting comment seemed right. So he simply tightened his grip, and roughly kissed his mage on the top of his head.

You can't have him, Justice, he thought desperately, not quite yet.

Please not yet.


End file.
